Mary Freeman
by GGE
Summary: Read "Write a Bad Romance" by OperaGoose, as this is a fanfic of that fanfic. Just... it makes sense once you read it; now get to it!


It had been a spectacular evening with her gorgeous date. They had a picnic under the stars on a balmy night with a wondrous view of the fireworks; never mind that the chicken in the sandwiches had been a bit rubbery and Mary had spilled wine on part of the quilted wicker basket holding them. It would take _ages_ to scrub that out. But then, Benedict had made it bearable with witty remarks and did not cross the thin line into gauche.

She could not remember anything he had said now, of course. Last night - she blushed with the memories - and nearly half the morning pretty much made most of the night if not irrelevant then certainly less important. But... Mary turned her head on the luxuriously soft pillow to see said date still unconscious, or pretending to be since he was devious and she would not put it past him to pretend. Since Mr. Man had not deigned it worthwhile to wake up yet, she figured reminiscing was not a bad way to pass the time until then. Though she could not spend too long ignoring the infamous Morning Breath if she was hoping for another round with him.

After she had reassured Benedict that she actually _did_ know how to cook, thank you very much, she remembered being confused and then irritated when he raised an eyebrow and started to giggle. How she found a full-grown man giggling to be anything but childish was beyond her.

After giving him a few moments, she asked, "Are you calm now?"

BC gave her a devilish grin. "What exactly did you say after 'I actually do know how to cook'?"

"Err, 'thank you very much'?"

"If I may be so impertinent as to correct your memory, your exact words were '_spank_ you very much'."

Mary was rendered utterly speechless at such a faux pas. Yes, she did very much want to 'tap that ass', as her American friend might have put it, but to say just that in such a blunt fashion was generally regarded as bad form. How could she have said that without realising? A blush was rising to her newly tanned cheeks.

Mr. Cumberbatch, however, was not the slightest bit put off. Instead, he leaned in and whispered what he thought she might have wanted to do as well. Several of his ideas were right on the mark and one was outright surprising. Mary was not expecting _that_ from a public school boy, but she was very happy about it.

"In which order would you like to proceed with the evening's events, my dear?" Did everything the man said have to be followed by a suggestive smile? Not that she minded, of course.

"I think it would be best to get inside first," she declared. Her brain was saying things without thinking them first again; bad habit, that. Ahh, yes. It was starting to rain. Damn weather, trying to get in on her potential nookie! Without meaning to, she was making a variety of interesting faces.

"I see you are having fun there. I am just going to unlock the door and step inside while you wait out here amusing yourself." Benedict brushed past her into the main corridor of her building. He sat on a sterile-looking, beige plastic chair briefly.

"Hey, where did you get my key from?" she demanded.

"Your pocket," he answered with - for once - an innocent smile before getting up to grab her picnic basket. She glared but was too distracted by his sly charm to really be annoyed. Dangerous, potentially lethal behaviour in her line of work, but how often did she get to take a handsome young man like this home and, hopefully, to bed? Leading him up the stairs was kind of fun, since he was carrying all the stuff they'd both brought. And that damn sexy coat.

He was so much more interesting than when she first laid eyes on him in the café. Maybe he was on his best behaviour that day? Well, she'd have to train him right out of that. Maybe Mary could incorporate some of the submissive conduct from then with the handcuffs and other bindings lurking in her closet... Oh thank god, the door to her flat. And her flatmate was out today, how fortuitous.

Then, it was a bit of a blur. The chicken sandwiches were near the fridge? Perhaps? Ahh, probably fine. Door locked, most definitely. Shoes, _away from very expensive carpet graduation present_.

Hands, very sexy hands, everywhere: check. Clothes, tiresome and constricting, off: check. Hot, eager partner: big check. Ready for take-off.


End file.
